Take-Out
by Valerie E. Mackin
Summary: She's had a rough day at work and has made a rather silly decision. But Murphy's there, and Chinese food can fix most things, right? Fifth in my Boondock Saints OC arc. M for language and smut.


It's been another one of those weeks. Work is long and hard, with issues left, right, and center that apparently no one can handle but me. I'm starving and exhausted. I'm cranky. None of which is helped by the fact that after four years at this job I still haven't learned to do something logical like bring an extra snack when I know I'm going to be working more than ten hours.

To be fair, I probably still wouldn't have time to eat it.

I let out a tired, grumpy huff as I drop into an empty seat on the subway car. It's deserted, and I find myself wistfully flashing back to the late nights of ogling a certain dreamy Irish stalker. Of course, now I get to have hands-on stalking time with both him and his less-stalky-but-equally-entrancing brother, so really my situation is vastly improved.

Which is, of course, why I'm going home alone tonight. Obviously.

Since the inception of this new-to-me triangle relationship with both Connor and Murphy, I've spent pretty much every night with the boys, either at their loft or at my place. I love every moment of the time we spend together, even when they're actively trying to piss me off…though I'd never tell them that, of course.

I also learned that before I met Connor, these two were the epitome of bachelors and no girl tended to last longer with either of them than a week at the most. Go figure.

The last thing I want to do is wear out my welcome, I figured I should give them some time off for good behavior, let them have a little space. I told them they should have a guys' night and spend some time with Rocco and their other friends. Do manly things and such without me.

This pronouncement was met with blank, bleary-eyed stares; as it was 5:30 in the morning and we were all still working on gaining cognitive processing skills, I couldn't really blame them for being confused.

"What…exactly is it ye think we do when ye aren't around?" Connor was more awake than the rest of us, and his expression had a large helping of amusement mixed in. He stood, stretching his lean, golden arms over his head, and I had to look away in order to keep my resolve.

"Well…I don't know. Beat your chests, drown in alcohol, talk about chicks, swear…beat the shit out of each other?"

"Yeah, but we do that shit when ye _are_ there, as well," Murphy pointed out with a yawn as he searched for his least dirty pair of jeans.

"I—Okay, fine, I'll give you that one, but damn it, I'm trying to play cool girl over here and give you two some female-free time! Most guys get tired of their girls hanging around all the time. I just want to give you two some space!"

By now, my face was red, and I felt embarrassed and anxious. This wasn't going the way I'd thought it would. I figured they'd jump at the chance to get me out of their hair for a while.

They exchanged a glance, and then turned twin expressions of guarded, confused wariness back to me.

"Alright, girl, if that's what ye want…When…um…when can we see ye again?"

Oh, for God's sake!

"It's not a punishment; I just don't want you two to get sick of me!" The words burst from my mouth before I could contain them, and I bit my lip in mild horror. Shit. That wasn't supposed to come out like that.

I turned my back to both of them, sure my entire body was bright red from blushing, and I busied myself searching for my clothes. A hand on my shoulder stilled me, though I didn't face them. Then I was pulled to me feet and gently but forcibly turned around. Murphy caught my eyes, not letting me look away.

"Alright, lass. We get it. If ye think we need a night off, we'll give it a try. It's okay." He planted a kiss on my forehead, which was wrinkled with anxiety.

Definitely not how I thought that conversation would go.

Forty minutes later, I'd been kissed good-bye by Murphy and Connor, and I was waiting on the subway platform for the train that would take me to work.

I felt like maybe I'd done something wrong, missed something I should have picked up on. Not horrible, end-of-the-world kind of wrong, but I think I definitely left something unsettled.

So those are the thoughts I'm wrestling with when I finally get off the subway car that night and start the short walk to my apartment. It's late, after ten, and I'm so hungry I might have to eat anything that gets between me and my fridge.

My frame of mind is not the best right now, and while I know I'm more prone to self-doubt and severe pessimism when my blood sugar is low, I can't help wallowing in misery at the feeling that I've somehow managed to screw up something pretty fucking fantastic between me and the boys; add to that a huge helping of self-pity that I'm going to have to spend tonight alone, and you have my current state of mind.

And it was all my idea. Genius level, that one.

I open the outside door to my building and trudge up the six flights of steps to my hallway. I'm so focused on my wallowing and trying to remember what food might still be good in the fridge that I don't notice Murphy sitting next to my door until I'm practically stepping on him.

I blink in surprise, and he flashes me a wonderfully sexy half-smile as he climbs to his feet. I shake my head to clear it, and he grins full-on at me now. He knows I don't eat at work, so I'm sure he's worked out how spaced I am right now.

His hands are on either side of my face as he kisses me softly. "Knew ye had a long day at work, thought I'd come check on ye."

"But…you guys were supposed to be hanging out with your friends. I thought you—"

He sidesteps my question by taking my keys from my hand and unlocking my apartment. Then he reaches down and picks up a medium-sized brown paper bag that I hadn't noticed. Hypnotic, euphoric aromas drift in my direction.

"Chinese?" he says, grinning as my expression goes a little slack. Am I drooling? Oh, please don't let me be drooling.

Half an hour later I've changed clothes, stuffed myself stupid, and am leaning contentedly against Murphy as he flips through the few stations I get with my ancient, rabbit-eared television set. His boots are over next to the door, and he looks comfortably permanent in his spot on my sofa.

"You never said why you were here instead of out."

"Sure I did," he answers smoothly, eyes on some old black and white horror flick. "Figured ye'd had a tough day, thought I'd see how ye were and bring ye some take out."

"You know what I mean, Murph. Why aren't you hanging out with your friends? You see me every day. I know I don't keep you from doing all the stuff you want to do like going out to the bars and watching ridiculous movies that are just as bad as the ones Connor watches, but…aren't you, y'know…tired of me?"

He fixes me with that piercing blue stare that bores right down to the center of my insecurities.

"Dontcha think I'd tell ye if I was gettin' tired of ye?"

I shrug uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze, but he puts a finger to my chin and tilts my face back toward his.

"Did it ever occur t'ye that Connor and I _choose_ t'spend all that time wit'ye?"

Well, no, not really. I digest this thought as Murphy smirks and turns back to the TV.

"So where is Connor, then?" I can't help asking.

Murphy's smirk deepens, and he snorts.

"Had t'beat 'im into submission."

I stare at him a moment, eyes narrowed. Murphy does a great straight face, so it's really hard to tell when he's joking sometimes. I shrug and settle back against him. Either way, nothing I can do about it.

A few minutes pass, and I decide that I am thoroughly bored with the movie. Murphy's still engrossed, though, so I glance around for some means of entertaining myself without distracting him.

After a minute or so of debate, I decide that Murphy is by far the most interesting thing in the room, so he'll have to do. So much for not distracting him.

Anyway, I'm sure he won't mind too much.

As I'm inspecting Murphy's neck, looking for a spot I haven't tasted yet, Murphy slants his eyes at me. When he notices that I've seen him he throws me a half-smile that tells me he knows exactly what I'm up to then turns his gaze back to the movie.

I adjust myself so I'm facing him and place a tiny kiss on the corner of his jaw, then slowly kiss my way up an inch or so. I drag the very tip of my tongue along the outer rim of his ear. I grin inwardly when I feel the faintest of shivers from him, and I gently scrape his earlobe with my teeth.

A soft growl rumbles from Murphy's chest, and his arm contracts around my waist. I take his earlobe between my lips now, sucking and flicking my tongue against the sensitive skin.

I lean back, letting his ear go with a very faint pop. He looks at me now, his eyes dark and hot. His arm starts to reel me in, but I shake my head.

"Just keep watching your movie. Don't mind me."

He gives me an amused and somewhat suspicious look but dutifully settles back deeper into the couch and returns his attention—mostly—to the movie.

Good; he's going to play along.

I lean back in and place light, teasing kisses along his jaw line from his ear to the corner of his mouth. He starts to turn into the kiss, but I take his chin and firmly turn his face front again.

His jaw tightens a little, but he stays quiet. I'm not usually this forward, so I guess he's willing to see how far I'll go.

I rise up and turn, planting myself across his lap so I'm facing the opposite direction, and I repeat my kissing procedure across this side of his face. Since I'm now sitting in his lap, I can literally feel the waning of his interest in the movie and the waxing of his interest in my activities.

I move from the corner of his mouth to his chin, which scratches roughly at my lips, and I purr contentedly.

I _love_ the feeling of Murphy's stubble.

I continue trailing kisses down his throat, adding an occasional stroke of my tongue or sharp nip when I think he's not expecting it. He shifts beneath me at his jeans become strained across his lap.

As I reach the last bit of skin just above the collar of his t-shirt, Murphy begins to lightly drag the fingers of his right hand up and down my back. Tiny spasms of pure pleasure shoot up and down my spine, and I moan against his skin, unconsciously arching my back into his touch.

For someone sporting a raging hard-on currently confined by some extremely uncomfortable-looking jeans, he manages to make the action seem very nonchalant and unplanned as if he's not even thinking about it. But Murphy knows my weak spots, and he's playing me like a fiddle. I'd be annoyed since this is my playtime, but it just feels so damn good.

Besides, I know his jeans have got to be really uncomfortable now. Should probably help him with that.

I readjust myself carefully until I'm straddling his lap, and his hands automatically move to grasp my hips. I smile and lean down to lightly bump the tip of my nose with his.

"Just relax," I murmur.

I take a moment to savor the firm warmth of his shoulders beneath my fingers, then I slither my way down his body, letting my hands trail down his chest and belly as I go.

When I'm kneeling on the floor between his legs, I look back up to see his eyes locked on me and all pretense of watching the movie is gone.

"Switch off the lamp and slide down a little, Murph." The light behind his head is casting his face in shadows, and I'd really like a better view.

As I unbuckle his belt and start working on his jeans, Murphy reaches down and unwinds the hair tie from the bun I've wrangled my hair into today. He slides the second hair tie from the ponytail I've used as the starter for my bun. My hair tumbles around my shoulders, and I swear that has to be one of the most amazing feelings in the world. I moan appreciatively as he threads his fingers through my hair and massages my aching scalp.

Finally having unfastened his jeans, I wriggle them and his boxers down while Murphy cooperatively lifts his hips. I keep pulling until I'm at his ankles, where he lifts his feet and kicks both jeans and boxers away.

I plant a slow, hot kiss just above his knee on the inside of his leg, then mirror this on his other leg. When this fails to get much of a reaction, I move up several inches until I'm at the sensitive skin at the top of his inner thighs, then I repeat myself.

That's what I was waiting for.

I continue kissing and licking in a lazy circle around his most sensitive area, taking care to not so much as brush against his balls or throbbing cock. Murphy growls in frustration, so I look up at him, working hard to suppress a grin.

"Yer killin' me here, girl!"

Oh, alright.

"Shirt," I murmur, my lips hovering over the head of his dick.

"You first," he shoots back.

I shrug. Fair enough.

Simultaneously both shirts go flying, and I lose myself for a moment drinking in the site of naked Murphy on my couch. His rosary tumbles from the folds of his shirt until it rests on the very top of his thigh, and he carefully pulls it over his head and sets it on the little table next to the sofa.

I keep eye contact with him as I lean forward and drag my tongue up the underside of his shaft from base to tip. He sighs, letting his head drop back as I repeat this up both the left and right sides.

Using only the tip of my tongue, I trace a narrow line around his head of his cock before taking the very tip between my lips. Murphy hisses quietly as I continue to run my tongue around and around, swirling moist heat onto the velvety skin.

His hips buck gently upward, and I place my hands on his upper thighs, holding him down. He's not as pleased with this, but he knows I'm doing this my way or not at all.

A centimeter at a time, I slowly push my lips lower, taking him deeper into my mouth until I'm as far down as I can go. I place my hand lower on his cock, covering what my mouth doesn't, and begin to work my way up and down, sucking hard on the way down and using my tongue rather creatively on the way up.

After a few seconds of this, Murphy's fingers are threaded through my hair, not pushing or pulling but just stroking my head gently. I can tell he's restraining himself, that he wants me to go faster.

"Maybe…ye could…lose th'rest o'yer clothes? Awful sexy when you're bare an'goin' down on me. Wanna see some more o'ye."

Who could say no to a request like that?

I lean back quickly, lifting my hips up and sliding the waistband of my sweats down, taking my underwear quickly with them. Unfortunately, one of the legs gets caught on the end of my foot, and as I'm twisting around to pull it off, I accidentally bang into the coffee table where Murphy's unfinished beer was resting. _Was_ being the operative word.

Sigh. It's always something. At least I got the sweats off.

"Shit!"

"What's wrong?"

I jump to my feet, scooping the bottle from the floor, but most of the beer is already soaking into the carpet. Great.

"Leave it," Murphy says, reaching for me. I'm already heading for the kitchen, though.

"I just want to get some paper towels on it, it won't take a second."

The look he's giving me is a cross between confusion and disbelief. "Really? Now? In th'middle of this?"

"Well, I'm not staying in the place forever, you know, and I'd like to get some of my deposit back when I leave."

"Again, really? That's what yer thinkin' of in th'middle of this?"

I've just realize how ridiculous my reaction to this is, and I chalk it up to mental exhaustion. I mop up most of the mess and walk the large wads of beer-sodden paper towels back into the kitchen.

"I'm already done," I say, turning to the sink. "Just let me wash my hands, I'll make it up to you."

And then I let out a shocked yelp as Murphy grabs me from behind and pins me to the counter.

"I s'pose ye can do that in here just as well as in there," he murmurs against my neck. "Ye mighta left some unfinished business 'tween us, as it were."

He grinds hard against me, crushing my hips into the counter, and a hiss slips from between my teeth as the edge of the counter scrapes roughly against my hipbones.

He scrapes his teeth along the skin just over my jugular vein, and I shudder against him. My hands are gripping the edge of the counter so hard I know there will be some pretty serious indentions in the skin by the time we're done.

"Hang on good to th'counter there, girl."

He drags his fingers agonizingly slowly from my shoulders, down my back, and around the front of my hips. His hands dig in, painful but delectably so, and he drags me back a few feet so that I'm leaning into the counter and my ass is pressed right up against our unfinished business.

He runs one hand back up my back, taking his time, and lightly wraps my hair around his fist. He grips his cock in his other hand, and I can feel the tip throbbing against me. He leans forward for just a moment, his chest flush against my back. Another shudder runs through me, and my heart is hammering so hard I can barely hear his whispered promise.

"This ain't gonna be gentle, lass; this is gonna be rough, an' it's gonna be hard. An' I promise you'll love every fuckin' second of it. But if ye want me t'stop, ye better say somethin' now."

My eyes slide shut, and I'm shivering in anticipation. I lick my parched lips, take a deep breath.

"Don't…please don't stop."

His first thrust is so hard, my grip slips on the counter, and I'm rocked forward. I just have time to adjust my hold as his fingers dig hard into my hip, and he's thrusting again. His force knocks the wind from me, and my head is already spinning, though not from lack of oxygen.

He winds my hair tighter in his fist, pulling my head back. This is new, and it's such an exotic angle compared to what I'm used to. My head is swimming with all the sensation, and it's all I can do to keep up with him.

He speeds his up, and every other thrust brings a rough, shouting groan from the pit of my stomach. One of us is cursing, maybe both of us, and something explosive is building deep in my belly.

The force has actually moved us forward until my hips are pressed right up against the counter, and it hurts so much, and there's no way I'm telling him to stop now.

Fuck the bruises; the twins are the only ones who'll see them anyway.

But I need something to hold on to, and Murphy is definitely the closest thing. I reach behind me, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck with one hand and grabbing at the counter again with my other.

"Fuck, Murph, please….Can't…take…much more."

Oh, he's so good at taking hints.

He releases my hair and wraps his arm around my front, holding me tight against him as he slams into me, each thrust harder and more ragged than the last. I'm gasping, moaning, and begging him all in the same breath, and I have no idea what I'm saying anymore.

Once more, and I shatter inside, and it's absolute bliss. I'm vaguely aware of Murphy thrusting hard again, slamming me into the counter one last time before stiffening behind me, cursing as he crashes over the edge.

After several dazed moments of remembering how to breathe, I suggest a shower might be in order. Since I have a day's worth of work grime, plus the fact that we both smell like sweat, sex, and beer, Murphy agrees this might be a good idea.

"O'course," he suggests persuasively, "We should probably do this t'gether…y'know, t'conserve on water, an' all that."

"Because you're so concerned about my water bill?"

"Always," he grins.

A very relaxing hour later, we're tangled together in my bed, wrapped up in my favorite blanket. I'm just starting to drift off when I remember something Murphy said from earlier.

"Murph?"

"Yeah?"

"What exactly did you mean when you said you had to beat Connor into submission?"

Murphy shifts behind me, dragging me closer until my back is pressed against his front.

"He wanted t'come check on ye t'night, but I figured it might be too much fer ye if both of us showed up. So we flipped a coin. Connor lost, so he gets t' see ye tomorrow instead of t'night."

I'm torn between exasperation that my evening was the result of a coin flip and confusion as to how Murphy got from said coin flip to beating on his brother. I go with the second thought.

"Can you explain to me how flipping a coin leads to a fight with Connor?"

"Ye told us to have a 'boy's night.' It's manly stuff, ye wouldn't understand."

"You know, I really wouldn't."

_Author's Note: Talk about a story that did NOT want to get written. I guess I did a little beating into submission myself. By the way, for continuity purposes, if you don't know, this one takes place sometime after "Hot Water," which is of course a direct sequel to "Cold Feet." Please leave some review love. Thankies. Y'all are wonderful. By the way, and this is REALLY random, any sex scene becomes just a little weirder if you're reading it while listening to "Zydrate Anatomy" from _Repo! The Genetic Opera_. Just a little weirder._


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